The Luckiest Dagger part I
Nex stood at the outskirts of Crusader camp, watching the roiling winds hurl themselves against distant black mountaintops. The journey north was slow and, despite Bainaur’s blessing of heat, was still unbearably cold. He pulled a flask from his cloak and drew long and deep to fill the void in his stomach. How long will this take? “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” came a voice from behind. Nex turned to see Greyne. The Darkmoon stood defiant against the wind, but even in the dark Nex could see him shiver. “Hail, friend,” Nex said, the usual gusto in his voice dulled by weariness. “Fancy a drink?” “Really,” Greyne said, seemingly ignoring the gesture, “Lidiya said that if you were to leave the camp, I had to come with you. You shouldn’t even be leaving at all.” “I’m not going after that bloody sword right now…” “But you are thinking about it,” Greyne replied, his voice terse. Nex downed another gulp of Whither Rock rum, a gift from Sinthaster. Were it not so good he’d spit it out in protest. “Nex,” Greyne said, “why are you out here?” The flask empty, Nex tossed it into the snow bank that rolled down below his feet. “I heard of a term, Greyne,” Nex said. “They call it Godtouched. When a human makes physical contact with the divine, these beings can choose to impart a portion of their divinity.” “Yes,” Greyne said. “The Saints have done extensive research into being Godtouched.” “It fucking sucks.” Nex produced a second flask. Wavering against his onset inebriation, he opened the top and drank. Greyne stood next to the Luckiest Sword and gazed into the blackness with him. “What do you mean?” “The perks are nice,” Nex said admittedly, “but the visions. The voices. They used to be kind, gentle. I used to hear Lady Tira. But being in this place, standing above a graveyard of countless souls…” Greyne put his hand on Nex’s shoulder. “You have friends, Nex. People you can rely on.” “I used to only hear Maleka when I was near the blade but I hear him, even now, trying to silence my thoughts. Bainaur and Lidiya hear him, too. They struggle as much as I.” “You didn’t have to come.” “I did!” Nex threw the flask into the night, now staring down his friend. “That weapon, that curse, was my responsibility and now two Gods are suffering because I couldn’t handle it alone.” Greyne did not yield to Nex’s anger, but roused a gentle tone to combat it. “We are here, all of us, to support you and the Seven. We’ll find a way to quell the sword and keep it safe. Leva Núrnen will have answers.” “I’ve heard so many promises from your ilk before,” Nex said, the image of a Paladin veiled in his mind. “Go. Leave me to my peace.” Greyne said nothing. There was a pause, a brief howling of the wind, and then he turned and left. Some time later, Nex found himself slumped down into the snow. The alcohol had begun to take him, and the voices dimmed enough to allow him sleep. There was crunching in the snow, and Nex stood shakily to confront the footprints. “I told you,” Nex said, slurring his speech, “to leave me alone.” “My lord,” a young man replied, “I merely wish to talk to you.” Nex sobered and straightened when he realized it wasn’t Greyne. “Forgive me,” he said. “What can I do for you?” “My name is Loras,” the young man said. “I was told to talk to you about… voices?” Nex felt a flush of heat. “Come, stand next to me.” The two stood and shared a quiet moment of kinship. “So,” Nex said, “what ails you?” “It’s hard to explain,” Loras said. “I never thought I was special, but the Godswalk changed something in me. I remember, one night, I made my way to the brothel where I was told never to go for fear of exotic devils. There was a woman there, a Soan girl, and before that I had never known true beauty. Her skin, like smooth charcoal… her hair like the mane of a lion.” Nex chuckled, “sounds like you have a type, friend.” “We laid together. Best night I ever had. In the morning she was gone, and I hadn’t even paid. That morning I discovered she hadn’t even worked there. But in my satchel was a note, a simple one. ‘Loras, I am yours. And you will always be mine. Be my champion.’” Nex turned to him, puzzled. This story was beginning to sound very familiar. “Since then, I have been… lucky. Like, Belain lucky. Money, friends, survival even. Things that should have ruined me have made me wealthy, rich enough to afford this expedition.” “Are you suggesting,” Nex said softly, “that Lady Tira has more than one champion? I’m not sure there’s enough drink for all of us.” “There’s something else…” Nex felt a searing pain in his chest, a dagger squirming into his lung. He recoiled in agony, his arm flailing for his sword but his knees buckling underneath him. “I am so sorry,” Loras said, tears in his eyes. “But she told me that if I were to become stronger, I had to do this.” Nex wretched blood from his mouth but found his footing, his sword-arm now twitching at the defense. Loras held the bloody dagger, wet pools of crimson dripping into the snow from its edge. “Belain,” Loras said, “the voices need to stop.” Nex felt weak as he clutched his ribs. He fell to a knee, his vision beginning to blur. There was so much blood. “Loras,” Nex said, “why?” “She said to me, ‘where Seven and Five made One and Eight,” Loras said, trembling. He walked slowly towards Nex, now. Nex could not feel the sword in his hand; he dropped it, fighting consciousness. “Nex,” Loras said, “we must do this.” He lifted the dagger. Loras crumpled over as Greyne guided his sword straight through the young man’s neck. Nex could faintly hear the thud of Loras’s body and the beginning of Luna Sana before darkness took him. Category:World Lore